Their Own
by PrairieJane
Summary: A 1940's Brittana love story. Playing baseball, especially professional baseball, wasn't something Santana thought she'd want. One thing was certain though, she wasn't going back home.
1. Chapter 1

Santana watched out the window on the train from Columbus to Chicago. She'd loved traveling by train since her first trip to New York. She had been so small that Papi had to lift her onto his lap so she could see everything as it raced past them out the window. She'd never been nervous on a train before, but she'd never traveled alone to a new place where she knew no one. What she was most afraid of was being turned away without being given a chance to prove herself. She'd experienced that more than once. Being Latina in the Midwest hadn't afforded her any luxuries. Even though the trip wasn't long and she didn't mind the travel, she did mind the heat. The only ticket she could afford reserved her a spot in an un-air-conditioned car, and for that she regretted wearing her best skirt and jacket. She had regretted wearing her new heels long before climbing out of the cab at the train station. As she watched out the window, she fanned herself with the small map of Chicago that she had brought along. She tried not to focus on hair sticking to the back of her neck where a hairpin had come loose, or the clamminess of her hands from wringing them against the leather handle of the small suitcase she clutched in her lap.

Playing baseball, especially professional baseball, wasn't something Santana thought she'd want. One thing was certain though, she wasn't going back home. She wasn't going back to a family that was constantly disappointed in her, to friends that cared more about getting married and having a million screaming babies than about making anything of themselves. She wouldn't stay in a town that felt deserted after half the boys she grew up with, including two of her brothers, were sent off to fight the Germans.

She'd always been good at baseball. She'd had to be good at it if she wanted to hang out with her older brothers. They made it clear early on that they weren't making any concessions for the_ princessa_ of the household. The fact that all three boys were older than her meant that she had to run faster and hit harder. By the time she was twelve, she could outrun any of the boys her age, and hit farther than most of her brother's friends.

But being athletic didn't win her many friends, nor did it please her family. Her parents had relentlessly encouraged her to be interested in things more appropriate for young ladies. While most of the other girls her age were learning to use typewriters and perfecting their sewing, Santana could usually be found at the makeshift baseball diamond across the street from her house. The empty lot where she learned to play baseball didn't have a regulation size diamond or real bases. But it had most of the boys from the neighborhood playing as hard as they could, any moment they could; kids of working class immigrants who didn't have money, but had enough pride and passion to make an empty lot feel like Yankee Stadium.

Stepping off the train onto the crowded platform made Santana feel dizzy and overwhelmed. She grasped her suitcase tighter and wove her way through the throngs of busy passengers. She took a folded piece of paper out of her purse and, for the hundredth time, read the address scribbled across it. When she left, Santana insisted that none of her brothers travel with her, and had one foot out the door before she told her parents she was leaving. "But Santana" her mother pleaded, "no man will want to date a girl who plays baseball. It's not respectable." Santana's father had tried to forbid her from going. She'd felt like she was in grade school trying to win an argument about what she could wear to school. She glared, and huffed, and was close to stomping her feet before her father sighed in defeat, kissed her on the forehead and handed her a few bills from his wallet. With a quick goodbye and a promise to send a telegram as soon as she arrived, she'd walked out the door.

Getting to the he hotel was easy enough, with the exception of one leering attendant. The hotel was definitely not the Ritz and Santana couldn't help but wonder what that meant about the league itself. She had heard a rumor that the place was well known a few years ago for hosting an underground speakeasy, but it was nothing impressive now. The lobby was swarming with young women who could only be there to try out. She knew right away that there were too many girls for everyone to have their own room. After getting her key from the front desk and finding the room, she opened the door and was assaulted by a too loud, too short girl. Without any introduction the girl started rambling incessantly about what she thought try-outs would be like. "First", she had said, "I would like to assure you that even though we are here with the hopes of claiming one of a limited number of spots, that I will not try to sabotage you in any way. That being said, I feel compelled to share that I have a substantial amount of experience playing baseball, and do not doubt my ability to be one of the star players in the league. I hope that doesn't put you off". Santana pushed past her and made her way towards the empty bed. She hoped her lack of response would serve as an obvious indicator that she wasn't interested in small talk. After a minute of looking for nothing particular in her suitcase, she couldn't help but look up. The girl was standing at the foot of the bed, and looked like she was about to burst into tears._ Holy Hell_, she did not need the extra stress of sharing her weekend with someone insane. Santana grabbed a book from her suitcase and rushed past the deranged girl and out the door towards anywhere quiet.

Santana's stomach churned with anxiety as she sat in a lumpy red velour chair that faced out the front window of the hotel. She had opened and closed the book sitting in front of her five times, but hadn't read a page. Groups of young women talked and laughed around her. Some were engrossed in discussions about the try-outs, while others just chatted. Two of the girls caught her attention. Her roommate spoke passionately with a girl who looked like she hadn't ever been off the family farm, let alone seen a city like Chicago. The girl looked unimpressed.

Santana glanced at the clock on the wall behind the front desk. The coaches and team managers were hosting a meet and greet, and Santana was determined to do whatever she had to do to look appealing. When she decided to pursue this, she had shown the add in the newspaper to her brother. "Looking for refined, level-headed, all-American girls to join a national baseball league." He'd smirked at her and replied, "sounds exactly like you!" with mock enthusiasm, and because her parents weren't around, she had no problem telling him exactly where he could stick his opinion. Later she'd let herself admit that he was right. She could be poised and even amiable if the situation demanded it, but chatting with people she didn't know with the hopes of making a quick, positive impression was not her forte.

Just as she suspected, the small conference room was packed with girls making their way around the room, mingling with men that she assumed were the coaches. She did her best to make sure she met each of them, smiling and giving her name. She must have said "Santana Lopez, catcher," at least a hundred times before the league owner appeared on the small stage at the front of the room and instructed them to sit in the rows of chairs facing him. Santana hesitated. Sitting at the very front would make her seem overly eager, but sitting at back seemed bad too. She argued with herself for a few seconds before picking an empty section about three quarters of the way back.

There were still plenty of chairs around her, so she was a little startled when someone sat in the seat directly to her right. Santana turned and was met with a smile so bright that any snide remark was forgotten. The girl to her right immediately held out her hand and introduced herself.

"I'm Brittany" the girl chirped, and just as Santana was about to return the introduction, she heard the crackling static of the microphone at the front of the stage. Her eyes locked with Brittany's for a beat before she turned towards the front.

The announcements made by coaches and managers were filled with schedules and encouragement. Although Santana tried to listen, her mind started to wander to the girl sitting beside her. When she had seen her roommate talking to her earlier she hadn't given Brittany much thought. Now should could think of nothing else. Santana wondered why Brittany picked the spot next to her when there were plenty of other choices. She peered to the side that Brittany was sitting on. Brittany was nearly falling out of her seat she was leaning so far forward, and appeared to be enraptured by what was happening on stage. After a couple more men had given their advice about the weekend the microphone clicked off and the room started to fill with chatter from the girls. Santana was still quiet, as she wondered why a girl that she'd never met intrigued her so much.

"Your name," Brittany spoke up, pulling Santana from her thoughts, "you didn't tell me".

"Oh! Sorry. Santana Lopez, catcher." As soon as she said it, Santana was mortified. She'd spent all afternoon telling coaches her playing position, and then managed to mess up the only real introduction.

She was sure Brittany could tell that she was flustered. Why was she nervous? She didn't know this girl at all. She looked up slowly and met Brittany's eyes. Brittany gave her an amused smile and then stood up to leave. As she started to walk away, she looked back over her shoulder and grinned "Nice to meet you, Santana Lopez Catcher".


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Santana headed to the field early. After seeing how many girls she was up against, she knew she'd need all the warm-up time that she could get. The drawback of being a catcher was that she'd need a good pitcher to work with. The benefit was that they'd need her too.

Santana had been right to get there early. Although the try-outs didn't start for more than an hour, there must have been at least fifty girls who jogged around the field or practiced swinging or throwing. Santana walked around looking at the girls that were practicing pitching. Some of them were good, but others needed to head back to the train station.

As she wandered, she kept an eye out for Brittany. She had no idea what position Brittany played. She hoped she wasn't a catcher.

None of the pitchers impressed Santana. They were predictable and wouldn't help her get her a spot on a team. She'd neared the point of settling for "good", when she saw a girl practicing on the opposite side of the field. The girl hadn't paired up with any of the others. She'd throw a few pitches, run to pick them up, and start over. Santana moved closer. The girl was good. She pitched consistently, but each throw was unique. Even more impressive was the speed with which the girl threw. Playing ball with boys had taught Santana that a fast pitch was nearly as important as a unique one, and this girl threw faster and harder than any of the others she could see. Santana could work with that.

She walked until she was standing behind the cage separating the batter's box from the bleachers. The girl pitched a couple more balls and ran to collect them. She had to know Santana was there, but she didn't look up. After a few more minutes of going unacknowledged, Santana finally spoke up.

"You need someone to work with," she called over to the girl. "You'll get sent home if you don't find someone who can handle some of those fast ones." The girl looked up, but didn't say anything.

"Fine, you know what, get sent home." Santana turned to leave. She'd taken less than ten steps when she heard the girl yell over to her.

"You think that's you?" the girl asked. "You think you'll keep me from getting sent home?"

_Damn straight_. Santana smirked and turned around back towards the other girl.

"Santana Lopez," she stated confidently.

"Quinn Fabray," the girl answered.

They didn't talk much while they practiced. Santana didn't see much point to it. They needed each other to make a good showing at at try-outs, but she didn't need to know Quinn beyond that.

They worked well together though, and judging by the others that she could see practicing, Santana knew that she and Quinn would be contenders.

After watching the outfielders try-out, the infielders ran onto the field. This was what Santana was interested in. These were the girls she'd be working with if she made it on a team. As one particularly awful group left the field, Quinn leaned towards her.

"Well I hope they're thoroughly embarrassed," she quipped.

Santana smiled. Quinn was worth having around.

When the next group ran onto the field, Santana's breath caught in her throat.

Brittany jogged confidently to her spot as shortstop. The group started by throwing the ball around. Brittany was a natural. . Her long legs helped her run between bases, and when she jumped to catch a ball or threw to another player each movement was strong and fluid. Even when she had to dive to the ground to catch a wild throw, she did it gracefully. Santana couldn't look away.

When the coaches started to hit a few balls out to each of the girls Brittany started to stand out. One of the hits was clearly a challenge, and Brittany had to leap off the ground to catch it. She did, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, Santana noticed the grin on Brittany's face. She threw the ball back to the pitcher, still wearing a smile. The coaches must have taken her confidence for cockiness and their next hit was a line drive straight to her. She caught it with ease and again tossed it back to the pitcher with a smile.

The group of coaches standing by the batter's cage turned to each other and whispered. Santana couldn't hear what they were saying, but she knew that it was either really good or really bad.

When the group of infielders left the field, Brittany walked over to Santana. As she approached, Santana tried to pretend she was inspecting her glove.

"Hi," Brittany greeted happily. "I saw you watching me."

Santana could feel Quinn looking at her.

"Yea, good job out there," Santana mumbled.

"I'll be watching you too." Brittany grinned, and then walked away.

While Santana waited for her turn to try out, she tried to ignore the chatter of the girls around her. She didn't want to hear them talk about their own chances or the chances of others. Right now her biggest concern was staying focused. She was able to tune most of them out until one voice cut through the crowd. Without turning around, she knew it was her roommate.

"You see," she started, "It really is courageous of us to be taking on the responsibility of baseball while the men are at war. I, for one, know that my fiance would be proud that all of us are contributing to the war effort by keeping the people entertained here at home."

_Good Lord, this girl was annoying_. Santana chanced a look behind her and immediately regretted it.

"Oh Santana, I didn't even see you there!" The girl walked briskly over to where Santana sat with Quinn. When she arrived she immediately held her hand out to Quinn. "Rachel Berry," she introduced herself loudly. Quinn shot Santana a quick look of annoyance before introducing herself. Rachel jumped into another bout of nearly breathless talking directed at Quinn.

"Although Santana and I have yet to make our connection, I am positive that, should we be placed on the same team, we will become good friends and strong teammates."

"Don't you agree?" Rachel asked Santana enthusiastically.

"Yea, I'm sure our friendship will be just swell," Santana answered. Her sarcasm was apparent.

Rachel's face fell.

"Oh. Well, okay. Good luck to both of you then," Rachel said quietly. She gave both girls a quiet goodbye and walked away.

Santana sat next to Quinn at the top of the bleachers while they waited for the team lists to be posted. No one talked or laughed like they had been over the last couple of days. The minutes felt never-ending. Would she be able to face going back home if she didn't make it?

By the time the league owner and one of the managers finally walked to stand in front of the group Santana's hands were trembling and her breath was unsteady. The owner congratulated the girls for getting this far and explained that if their name was not on one of fours lists that they could leave.

Once the lists were posted, many of the girls jumped up to find their names. Santana felt frozen. She watched as some of the girls cheered or squealed in delight, while others hung their heads and left. She watched for Brittany and saw her get up and make her way to the lists. With so many girls still looking over their names, it was hard to keep track of her.

Quinn remained seated next to Santana. After a few minutes many of the girls had left. Quinn bumped her shoulder against Santana's.

"Are we going to go look, or just assume the worst?" Quinn questioned.

Santana sighed. "We'll look."

They got up together and walked towards the lists.

Standing in front of the lists, fear once again overtook Santana. Quinn was looking, but Satana kept her eyes closed. Suddenly Quinn grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Look," she breathed. When Santana did, she saw Quinn pointing to the list marked Racine Belles. She focused in on names.

Quinn Fabray, pitcher.

Santana Lopez, catcher.

Relief filled Santana's lungs. She'd made the team. She wouldn't have to go home.

She sank back onto the bleachers next to Quinn. Almost all of the girls had either taken their seats on the bleachers or left the field. Santana looked up and down the rows of bleachers but still didn't see Brittany.

Quinn's nudged against her. "Isn't that your friend?" Quinn asked.

Santana looked up and down the bleachers again and then noticed that Quinn was pointing back towards the lists. Santana looked.

Brittany was standing in front of one list before moving to another. "Excuse me, Miss," one of the men said, speaking towards Brittany. Brittany looked at him and then back to the lists. "Miss, if your name isn't on a list, you'll have to leave."

Brittany looked down at her feet.

"What's wrong with her?" Quinn asked, sounding annoyed.

"I don't know..." Santana answered. "I should go check."

She hopped off the bottom step of the bleachers and walked quickly towards Brittany.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly when she was close enough for Brittany to hear.

Brittany didn't answer, but looked at the ground instead.

Santana was confused. Brittany had been one of the most talented athletes on the field. She had to have made a team.

Brittany continued to stare at the ground. Santana stood thinking for a moment more and then she understood. When she had seen her roommate talking with Brittany, her first thought was that Brittany had never been off the farm.

"Hey," Santana said as gently as she could.

Brittany lifted her head just enough to make eye contact with Santana.

Santana lowered her voice to a whisper. "Can you read?"

Brittany's eyes snapped back down to the ground and then she slowly shook her head.

Santana normally wouldn't have given a second thought to people she met that couldn't do something as basic as reading. She might not have been rich, but she had an education. She was proud of that. Now, standing in front of Brittany, she felt awful. Brittany was deflated.

"Okay, that's okay," Santana hushed, "I'll help you."

Brittany nodded, eyes still on the ground. Before she could stop herself, Santana reached out and touched Brittany's arm. Brittany's eyes snapped up to meet hers. Santana pulled her hand away.

"Sorry," Santana said quickly. "Okay Brittany, what's your last name?"

Brittany's eyes still bored into hers. "Pierce, Brittany S. Pierce."

Santana looked at the first list. Brittany's name wasn't there. Not on the second either. She checked the list that her own name was on. No. Her heart sank a little. She let her eyes travel down the last list, she was almost to the bottom when she saw it. "There!" she gasped. She grabbed Brittany's hand and pointed Brittany's finger at her name. "You made it! You're on the Rockford Peaches. You-" Her sentence was cut short as she was pulled into a tight hug. Her cheeks heated up and Brittany squeezed her even tighter.

Then, just before letting go, Brittany whispered in her ear, "Thank you so, so much Santana."

* * *

**A/N: A big thanks to my wonderful betas Lingeringlilies and Frogrcool! And another to baconbreadstix for the awesome graphic!**


	3. Chapter 3

Santana, Brittany, and Quinn walked towards the hotel. Santana had come to tryouts filled with determination, but now that she had earned a spot on a team she didn't know what to feel. She wondered what this would mean for her, past the next couple of days. How long she would be able to play ball, and how long the league would last? Would she be able to play for years? What would she do afterwards? Maybe she could stay in Chicago, or another big city. Surely there would be last minute cuts. What if she was sent home now? Certainly that would be worse. She would have been embarrassed to be sent home in the first round of cuts, but if she was sent home now she would be humiliated. The small taste of independence she had gotten over the last couple of days was enough to convince her that going back home was less of an option now than it had been before.

"Are you going out tonight?" Santana was pulled from her thoughts by Brittany's bright, singsong voice. When she turned towards Brittany she also saw Quinn looking at her expectantly.

"Umm, going out where?" Santana mumbled, feeling embarrassed that she might have missed part of the conversation.

"Just out. There's a bar down the street from the hotel," Brittany answered, adding a little hop into her step.

"Maybe", Santana said. She glanced Quinn. Quinn shrugged like she wouldn't care if she went or not.

"There will be drinking," Brittany continued happily, "and dancing!" At this she added a little side step and a small twirl before returning to back to her normal pace.

Going to a bar with a group of girls, most of whom she had no intention of being friends with, would usually be something she'd stay away from, or at least escape from at the first possible opportunity. Knowing Brittany would be there somehow changed that feeling.

Brittany was confident and secure. She seemed genuinely happy. She was the things Santana pretended to be. Normally she would have hated that, but when it came to Brittany, even after only knowing her for a couple of days, Santana couldn't fathom feeling anything but wonder for her.

Santana rolled her eyes, and grinned. "Okay, I'll go."

Brittany clapped her hands together and once again started to move down the sidewalk in elegant twirls and skips.

Santana wore her hair pinned up, with one of her favorite barrettes to to clip back her bangs. Her dress was short enough to ensure she would get a couple of free drinks without making her seem like the kind of girl who would follow through on any sleazy proposition directed at her. She was certain that none of the men at the bar would impress her, but there was nothing wrong with getting a few drinks for free.

The bar was awful. The sign above the door looked like it might fall off and crash down on the next poor soul to enter. Who had picked this place? It was hard to see through the thick haze of smoke that hovered over the tables. The music crackled loudly through a jukebox in the corner. Young men on leave from service, most still in the military fatigues, stood around around the outskirts of the dance floor, holding their drinks and staring at girls.

Santana squinted and looked for anyone familiar. She recognized a couple of the girls from the league, but no one she cared to speak to. Finally Santana spotted a familiar face. Quinn sat at the bar, looking as unimpressed by everything that happened around her as Santana was.

"Fancy meeting you here," Santana quipped, sitting on the stool next to Quinn. Quinn nodded towards Santana.

"Likewise, I'm sure" she answered back, and then like the previous couple of days they sat in silence, taking in the commotion around them.

They had only been sitting for a couple of minutes before two young men in Navy uniforms approached them.

"Evening, ladies," the taller of the two men drawled. Santana gave him a fake smile as she took in his stubbly face and yellowing teeth.

"Couldn't help notice you two were here all alone," he continued. "Thought maybe you'd like some company." Santana was certain there was nothing in the world she wanted less, but if she was going to stay at the bar until Brittany arrived then she needed a drink.

When Brittany walked into the bar, Santana wasn't the only one who noticed. Brittany's hair fell past her shoulders, and even though her dress was modest, it seemed to accentuate her long legs. Santana's eyes roamed down to the heels that Brittany was wearing and then back up Brittany's body. Santana knew she was staring too long at the fabric of Brittany's dress where it moved against Brittany's thighs. She let her eyes continue up Brittany's body to where the cut of the dress angled in towards her thin waist. Santana raised her eyes slowly up over the rest of Brittany's form and felt heat rise up in her cheeks as her she took in the curve of Brittany's breasts. Brittany's body was beautiful. When Santana's eyes landed on Brittany's face, they made eye contact immediately. Santana looked away, embarrassed that she had been caught staring.

As Santana pretended to listen to the pudgy, baby-faced Navy boy and his buddy drone on, her thoughts drifted. Would she get to talk to Brittany tonight? They hadn't had a proper conversation, and Santana was curious to find out more about her. Every so often she would sneak a glance towards where Brittany was talking with a group of girls. She hadn't truly been listening to the man-child standing in front of her before, but now she was having trouble even pretending that what he said was of any interest to her.

Shortly after the boys brought over another round of drinks, Quinn looked down at her watch.

"My goodness, look at the time," she stated in mock surprise. Santana smirked, she knew it couldn't have been later than eight.

"Weren't we supposed to be checking in with the other girls?" Quinn fibbed.

Santana nodded quickly.

"Oh my, yes," Santana answered and then continued, "Sorry boys, it's been swell."

Making sure to take their drinks with them, Santana and Quinn walked away. When Quinn pointed towards a small group of girls she recognized and motioned for them to head that way, Santana shook her head and pointed to an empty table near the edge of the dance floor. Quinn gave her a quick wave and they headed their separate ways.

Santana sat at the table, happy that it wasn't surrounded by jabbering girls. Only moments later, Brittany sat down right next to her. Would Brittany mention that she had caught Santana staring earlier?

"Hi," Brittany said loud enough to be heard over the music, "I'm glad you came." She smiled sweetly and seemed so sincere when she spoke that Santana couldn't help but be glad as well.

Brittany sat close enough to Santana that their legs brushed against each other. Santana's instinct told her to move away from the contact, but she didn't. She glanced down to where her hands were folded in her lap. She saw the material of her dress was pressed against the material of Brittany's. Only a couple layers of thin fabric separated her skins from Brittany's. Brittany scooted impossibly closer and brought her mouth to Santana's ear to ask how she was. Santana's breath caught in her chest, and she clenched her hands and closed her eyes.

"What's wrong, Santana?" Brittany asked, concerned.

Santana unclenched her hands and smoothed them over the thin red material covering her legs. She took a deep breath. She didn't know what was wrong.

"Nothing's wrong, I'm just... I'm fine." Santana answered as calmly as she could.

She knew she shouldn't have liked sitting so close to Brittany. She shouldn't want to be able to feel Brittany's breath against her skin. Santana shook her head gently and tried to clear her thoughts. It was a nice change from the harsh smelling boys that would normally be pressed against her.

Growing up, Santana was used to hanging out with the boys in her neighborhood. When she was young, things were easy. They could play ball and ride bikes and not worry about anything other than being friends. As Santana reached adolescence, she had realized that being _friendly with boys_ didn't have the connotation that it had when she was younger. Many of the boys she had grown up with had started to treat her differently. A boy had gotten angry with her after they had eaten dinner together one night and said that she was a tease and was leading him on. He had told her that she should kiss him to make up for it, and she had.

Santana had made more compromises throughout her teenage years to continue to be accepted by boys in her neighborhood. She hadn't wanted to do many of the things she did, and had never enjoyed it. There was no way Brittany could make her feel like those boys had.

"I think I need another drink," Santana said, trying to make the grin on her face seem believable.

Brittany still looked worried when she nodded her agreement. Santana broadened her smile, and finally Brittany's smile mirrored her own. Brittany gave another quick nod and then motioned for the bartender.

By the time that Santana had finished two more drinks, it had gotten easier to be close to Brittany.

Santana had been right when she assumed Brittany had never been to a city as big as Chicago. Brittany told Santana about the small farm that she grew up on, and that she had been waiting for an opportunity for adventure when she had heard the radio advertisement for the league. Santana laughed as Brittany described running through her tiny three room home, collecting her few belongings. They were so involved in their conversation that Santana almost didn't notice the bar quiet down as a love song started playing through the speakers of the jukebox.

Brittany stopped mid sentence and looked at Santana, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Santana, would like to dance?"

Brittany's question blindsided Santana and she stumbled over her words to answer. The crooning voice of Frank Sinatra drifted through the bar as men led women onto the dance floor.

"Would I like to... what?"

Brittany giggled and asked again "Do you want to dance with me?"

Santana quickly scanned the tables around her to see if anyone else had heard Brittany ask such an absurd question.

"No. Brittany, I mean... we can't..." Santana wasn't sure what to say. Why would Brittany ask her that? Did she really expect Santana to say yes and just follow her onto the floor?

"Oh." Brittany's smile faded and she looked confused. "Do you not know how? I could teach you!" she suggested.

Santana looked at Brittany, exasperated, and then murmured her answer.

"I know how to dance, Britt. It's just..." Santana lowered her voice to a whisper and Brittany leaned closer, "we're both girls".

Brittany laughed.

Santana was startled by it. She didn't see what was funny. Santana went on in a hushed voice, "We can't dance together, Brittany. Dancing, like that", she motioned towards the floor where couples swayed together, "is for men and women, not two girls."

Brittany didn't speak, she simply nodded and turned towards the dance floor to watch the couples.

Soon the music picked back up again and couples started to dance quickly around the floor. Santana and Brittany sat in silence. Santana scolded herself. She shouldn't have been so rude, but she couldn't dance with another girl. That wasn't acceptable. She turned towards Brittany to apologize, but as she opened her mouth to speak, an attractive young man walked up to the table.

"Hey, Doll," he said to Brittany, "care to dance?

Brittany didn't hesitate before hopping up to follow the boy onto the dance floor. Santana had wanted to continue sitting close to Brittany, and now she had ruined it. She was mean to Brittany, and now Brittany was happy to walk away. As the music sped up, Santana watched Brittany and the boy dance across the floor. Brittany danced with even more grace than when she played on the field, and just like when she played ball, anyone could tell she enjoyed every moment.

It didn't take long for Brittany to be whirling around the dance floor. Her partner kept up well, swinging her around the floor, and even lifting her up into the air more than once to twirl her around before setting her feet back on the floor.

Santana watched Brittany dance for a couple of more songs. At the end of one dance, the boy that Brittany was dancing with leaned close to Brittany and spoke. Santana couldn't hear what they were saying, but she watched as Brittany giggled and responded. She wanted to look away. She felt embarrassed for wanting to hear what they were discussing.

Santana felt tears well up into her eyes. She was ashamed at the way she had been thinking about Brittany all evening. She had wanted to be close to her, and had wanted to dance with her the way she should have wanted to dance with boys. And now she was jealous that Brittany wasn't in her arms being led across the floor. Santana's heart ached with feelings that she didn't understand. She looked down at the drink sitting in front of her. She picked it up and moved the glass in her hand and watched the ice cubes clink against each other. She tried to focus on the noise of the music around her, and on the chatter of the young men and women around her at the bar. She picked up bits and pieces of conversations about the league, and about military assignments. She could hear two men a few stools down the bar from her discussing how to pick up women, and she listened in, hoping that listening to their cluelessness would offer her some distraction from the confusing she was feeling.

The song playing came to an end and Santana saw Brittany give the boy she was dancing with a quick hug and then turn to walk towards her. Brittany gave her an excited wave as she approached and Santana was happy that the music hadn't started up again so that she might have a chance to talk to Brittany about why she had turned down her dance invitation.

Without music the chatter in the bar could be overheard more clearly. As Brittany passed the two men that Santana had been listening to she heard one of them whistle. Brittany looked towards them, but then continued to walk. The men followed her path with their eyes, and right before Brittany reached her, Santana heard them speak again.

"You should go ask that 'spic in the red dress, I hear they're easy," one of the men said, and then laughed.

Santana's eyes widened, and her heart started to pound. She looked at Brittany who had stopped walking and was now standing still with her eyes trained on Santana's.

Santana had heard that word directed at her when she was growing up, but now Brittany had heard it directed at Santana as well. The tears that Santana had been fighting started to spill over onto her cheeks. She didn't want Brittany to see her crying. Santana stood up, grabbed her purse and headed towards the door.

Opening the door of the bar, Santana began to step out into the cool night but before the door could close behind her, she felt a hand grab hers. She began to round on the person, scared that it might be one of the men who had been talking about her. When she turned, however, she saw it was Brittany.

Santana knew she must look awful. She knew that her face was was streaked with tears and makeup. Santana didn't want anyone to see her like that, especially not Brittany. She didn't want Brittany to think she was being dramatic, or over sensitive. She wanted to hide from Brittany's concerned eyes.

"I have to go", Santana whispered.

"Santana, just ignore those guys," Brittany said, and then reached out to wipe a tear that was sliding down Santana's cheek. Brittany's smile was warm. "Come back inside with me," Brittany continued. "I'll buy you a drink".

"I look absolutely hideous" Santana said as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

Brittany reached into her purse, pulled out a small handkerchief and handed it to Santana.

"You look beautiful. Now come back inside."

Waking up early was something that Santana had always been opposed to. Her mother had said on more than one occasion that even as an infant she insisted on sleeping late.

When the banging on the hotel room door started, Santana felt like someone was hitting her head against the door instead. She groaned and reached for a pillow to put a buffer between the noise and her pounding head. She moved her hand around the bed without opening her eyes, but felt nothing. Ruefully, she opened her eyes a fraction of an inch.

The events of the night before started to play hazily through her mind. She vaguely remembered stumbling out of the club with Brittany clutching her hand on one side, and Quinn supporting herself on Santana's other shoulder. She also remembered loud, seemingly never-ending singing. That had to be where her headache came from. Rachel must be to blame.

She opened her eyes a little more. She was facing the other bed in the room, and saw Quinn curled in on herself in the middle of it, still wearing her shoes, without any blankets covering her.

She looked towards the small couch and saw Rachel sprawled on her back, one side of her body perched precariously on the edge. Santana couldn't help but hope that Rachel would scoot that extra inch and fall to the ground.

There was movement on the other side of her. Santana froze. If Quinn was on the bed across from her, and Rachel was so very close to falling onto the floor that meant that...

Santana turned over. Brittany was lying on her side, facing Santana.

Brittany was just as beautiful sleeping as she was when she was awake. One of the straps of her dress had slid down her arm, revealing a couple of inches of the slip she wore underneath. Her hair was spread across the pillow and hid part of her face. Santana wanted so badly to reach out and brush the hair away from Brittany's face, but she knew she couldn't. She couldn't let herself touch Brittany. The shame she felt for wanting to be so close to Brittany the night before returned and grew within her as she realized how badly she wanted to be close to her now, in bed.

Santana pulled herself away and made her way to the small bathroom.

After showering and dressing she began the task of waking up the other girls. Rachel hopped out of bed quickly proclaiming that her morning beauty routine was already behind schedule and that she didn't want to have to skip anything if they were supposed to look their most presentable. Once Quinn woke up it was as if she had never gone to sleep. She sat up, ran her fingers through her hair, adjusted her shoes, and within moments seemed to be back to her normal picture of perfection.

Brittany proved to not be as easy to wake.

"Brittany, wake up. We have to get ready to go, we're already running late," Santana cooed quietly.

Brittany stirred, but then turned over and faced the opposite edge of the bed. Santana sighed and tip toed around the bed to kneel by the side of the bed.

"Britt, we have to get ready to go. We don't want to get in trouble," Santana said a little more firmly.

Brittany's eyes fluttered open, and she quickly brought her hands to her face to shield her eyes.

"Turn the sun off," Brittany groaned.

Santana laughed quietly as Brittany sat up and looked around the room.

The girls managed to get ready quickly, even though Santana threatened to throw Rachel out of the hotel window if she didn't stop hogging the mirror.

The charm school that the girls had been required to attend looked as ridiculous on the outside as Santana was sure it would be on the inside. She was surprised they didn't put ruffles along the rain gutters. Everything was pink. The house, the door, the fence surrounding the yard. There were perfect pink flowers set in perfect pink pots. Santana was in her own personal hell before she even stepped inside.

Santana followed Brittany, who looked like she was about to enter Wonderland through the looking glass, into the house.

As the girls entered the large living area of the house, they were directed to small tables set throughout the room. Brittany grabbed Santana's hand and led them towards the edge of the room. Santana motioned at Quinn to follow.

Santana started to get hopeful that no one else would join their table. But, just like everything else this morning, luck did not seem to be in her favor. Rachel sat down directly across from her.

Santana leaned forward in her chair. "This table is reserved for people of normal height only," she hissed. Rachel didn't respond immediately, but when she did, Santana's headache returned full force.

"Santana, I understand that you have decided I am not worthy of your friendship. The reasons for that still remain unclear to me, especially since I feel have been nothing but amiable to you for the past few days." Rachel took a deep breath and continued, "More importantly, I feel you are causing yourself unnecessary hardship and wasting precious energy by choosing to direct your cruelty towards me."

Santana shook her head in astonishment at Rachel's rant.

"Okay shortstack, here's the deal, plain and simple. I don't want to be your friend. I don't like the way you play ball. I don't like the way you talk. And for the love of all that is holy can you please never sing again!" Santana kept her voice low, but her tone told everyone at the table just how serious Santana was.

Rachel didn't give a long winded response, instead just quietly saying "okay" and turning her attention to the papers on the table in front of her.

On each of the table's matching place settings lay a packet of paper. The title, _An American Young Lady's Guide to Charm and Beauty_, was written in large swooping letters across the front page.

Santana picked up the packet and her jaw dropped. Holy hell, this wasn't a packet, it was a book. She flipped through some of the pages, and then quickly set the packet back down, removing her hands from the offending item. She raised her eyes to look around the table, hoping that someone else understood the torture that seemed to await them.

Rachel seemed to be a few pages into the packet already, her face only a few inches from the page as her fingers skimmed across the words she was reading in a hushed whisper to herself. Quinn was looking over the table of contents. Probably skipping the chapters she already excelled in.

Santana hesitated before looking towards Brittany. Brittany was sitting with her hands in her lap, her legs bouncing slightly as she looked down, her brow furrowed. Santana tried to catch Brittany's eye. After trying to make eye contact a second time, Santana bumped her leg against Brittany's. Brittany jolted and looked at her.

"It'll be okay, Britt," Santana whispered.

Brittany nodded and looked down at the packet. Santana watched as Brittany flipped through a couple of pages. More than once Brittany put her fingers to one of the words on the page and opened her mouth as if she was trying to figure out what it said. After trying a couple of times though she would pull her hand away from the page and shake her head a little. Eventually Brittany sighed and closed the packet, setting it back down on the table.

Santana wanted to help her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd wanted to help someone without the promise of getting something in return, but she wanted to do whatever she could to make sure that Brittany never looked so sad.

After being formally welcomed by their _decorum mentor_, the girls were invited to start their Day of Charm with a tea party. When Brittany reached for teapot with both hands, Quinn pushed her hands away and explained to the table how the tea and other items on the table should be properly passed around. Santana didn't care for tea, and she was starting to think she didn't care for Quinn either. As if reading her mind, Brittany turned towards her and exclaimed that she would never invite any of these girls to a party. Santana nearly laughed out loud at the offended look on Quinn's face.

It seemed like every time _this day can't get any worse_ crossed Santana's mind, it promptly got worse. During the first six hours that the girls were at "charm" school, Santana had learned how to comb her hair,interact with reporters, and apply face cream so that her skin glowed radiantly beneath her catcher's mask at each game.

Santana had suspected when the beauty portion of the class arrived that the mentors would have problems when it came to her. Her suspicions were confirmed when one mentor paused during their _make-up instructional _to inform Santana that they didn't have anything to match ethnic skin tones.

"Can I leave then? Because I'm guessing you won't have anything for my ethnic hair either," Santana said before she could stop herself.

All of the other girls looked at her, and she was sure she even heard a couple of them gasp.

"I'm sorry Miss," the women replied curtly. "We don't usually deal with non-whites. We just aren't prepared".

Santana's anger boiled up inside of her. She wanted to tell the woman exactly what they should get prepared for, and just as she was about to get up from her seat, she felt Brittany's hand on hers.

"Santana, you can't leave" Brittany whispered, and gripped Santana's hand tighter.

Santana didn't want to leave Brittany. She had promised her that today would be okay, and she wouldn't break her promise.

Santana glanced over her shoulder to where women from the school were watching and taking notes. Santana would be damned if she let her actions at these ridiculous classes hurt her chances of playing ball.

"Fine, whatever, I'll stay" Santana huffed.

Brittany didn't move her hand from Santana's. With each moment that passed Santana's heartbeat sped up. She looked at the girls sitting in the chairs around them. Each girl had their face turned to the instructor as she talked about the proper way to apply blush. Brittany's hand felt perfect in hers. Her skin was so soft. Santana wondered what the skin on other parts of her body would feel like. Would the skin on her stomach be that soft? Santana gasped quietly at the thought.

Brittany squeezed Santana's hand and Santana met her eyes quickly.

"You alright?" Brittany mouthed silently. Santana nodded. Brittany squeezed her hand one more time and then let go.

After what felt like hours of sitting through the teacher's absurd advice, and through an agonizing portion of time where Rachel asked questions about each thing that had happened so far, they were instructed to pair with someone to work on proper dance etiquette.

For the first time since entering the prison of charm, Brittany wore a smile on her face. As soon as the girls stood, Brittany moved close enough to Santana to ensure that everyone knew that they were partners. Santana's hands were shaking with anticipation as she waited for more instruction from the teacher.

First, they were told that although they would have to switch between leader and follower during class, that in a public situation women were not to try and lead men.

Brittany giggled and bowed low in front of Santana.

"May I have this dance Miss?" Brittany asked in mock sophistication.

Santana nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak. Brittany smiled and led her to the dance floor with the other women.

The dance teacher walked the girls through steps of popular dances. It seemed that with each new dance, Brittany pressed closer to Santana. Santana was trembling, and she prayed that Brittany couldn't tell.

Dancing with Brittany was exactly like Santana thought it would be. They moved together easily, and Santana giggled each time Brittany twirled her around. As each song drew to a close, Santana feared that it would be the last.

**A/N: This took much longer than I thought it would! Sorry!**

**Thanks to my wonderful betas, lingeringlilies and frogsrcool**


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